


FTL Fruit Punch

by ramblingAnthropologist



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Before they do the do, M/M, The cute moments before either admit the other is hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2019-01-09 00:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12265527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ramblingAnthropologist/pseuds/ramblingAnthropologist
Summary: There were many things Garrus could have expected after finishing his calibrations that night. Commander fucking Shepard in his hamster socks on the table was not one of them. Two soldiers blow off some steam and learn the values and aesthetics of the human ass at the same time. Money will exchange hands, but just who is walking away with the pot? (Not Joker, cause that ship sailed two years ago.)





	FTL Fruit Punch

“Do you ever sleep?”

Garrus could have expected a number of things upon leaving the side of his favorite massive gun that night. It would have been fairly quiet given the fact a number of the crew was sleeping or off doing other human... things. Maybe if he was lucky, he could have caught a sideways glance from someone who didn't know the resident Turian's favorite activity.

What he wouldn't have thought to catch was utter hypocrisy from Commander Shepard himself.

“That's funny, coming from you, Shepard. When's the last time you slept?”

The man's outfit answered his question for him, of course. Out of his fatigues, Alistair was only clad in an oversized hoodie, a pair of shorts in a similar size, and socks covered in fat cartoon hamsters. Sitting on the table most of the crew ate off of in busier hours, one of his feet waved back and forth in the air as he sipped from what could have only been described by the Normandy's biotics as “their second favorite adult juice boxes” if they were feeling particularly festive.

He got a particularly indignant slurp of energy replenishing juice with his answer and trouble. “I just woke up, actually. Felt a little low and I was out of my FTL Fruit Punch. All these Cerberus douches keep down here is Grapenade.”

As far as Garrus knew, the biotic liquid supplied by most military systems for their biotics to quickly replenish strength on the battlefield didn't have a name so... colorful. Nor for that matter, was it in any appetizing flavor. In fact, he was pretty sure it tasted like ass if Jack was telling the truth. She knew a lot about asses of various species, so he had to trust her on that.

“I know you're messing with me, Shepard. There's no way it's called that.”

Maybe it was the overhead lights, but the man's blue eyes seemed particularly electric as he hopped off the table to meet him halfway. In flat feet he was even shorter, so he had to crane his neck to grin up at him. It caused his so hotly criticized, overly long hair to brush his shoulders as he did, falling into his face as well.

“And how would you know? Maybe we keep it a secret so you won't steal our juice.”

Alistair finished his statement with another slurp of his after-midnight snack, betraying his point with a slight grimace. That was all the proof Garrus needed to know if it really did bring posteriors to mind, so he grinned in his own little way as he looked down at the biotic savant.

“I'm pretty sure there would be crappy commercials about it if there was.” He plucked the near empty box from his friend's hands, chuckling as he got a weak whine of protest and fingers reaching out to take it back. Just to be petty, he held it far above his head, well away from where his target could have only hoped to reach.

He really was short, though. How people didn't notice that was beyond him, but maybe it had something to do with the guns or biotics.

Garrus chuckled again as he looked at the plain, rather nondescript box that had held the commander's attention. “Nope, no FTL Fruit punch here.”

“I told you, Cerberus are all douchebags and only keep Grapenade to mock me. It might be an explosion of vitamins, but it's awful.” Alistair stood on tip-toe, pushing his meager height to 5'5” in order to get it back. “Come on, Garrus, fork it over. I was all shaky earlier and I really don't want to pass out.”

That was another of the many benefits of being biotic. When their energy was low, it was easy to mistake them for diabetics needing their carbs. Or hell, maybe they were actually low. It wasn't like he knew. As long as they didn't hit them with their magic missiles, he didn't care what happened.

Maybe if he had cared, Garrus would've seen it coming. Alistair might have been small, but he was solidly built with more than enough muscle to his name. When he applied his weight, it stuck. In this case, physics meant that he sent both of them toppling to the floor when he lost his balance in a valiant effort to get his juice back.

The Turian landed first, hard on his back with a faint groan. It would have been something more substantial, but he'd had a human land directly on him. Something soft was pressing into his chest, and he found another as his hands groped for something to hold onto.

“Oww.” Alistair was nestled under his chin, bumping the top of his head when he tried to move. Garrus' vision was crimson as he flopped back. “Fuck, your face is hard!”

Yeah, that was kind of the point. However, neither of them could really move with their positioning. It wouldn't have been too bad, but their sudden meeting with the floor had been just loud enough to draw attention from other parts of the ship.

Thanks to his position on the bottom, Garrus could watch clear as day as two crew members – he'd forgotten their names, but he'd seen them around – popped their heads in. Both wore the same grin as they processed the scene, kind of like a cat he had seen on the Citadel once.

Maybe it would've been a better scene if his hands wouldn't have been all over Alistair's ass thanks to the fall.

“Get a room, you two.”

“Who had six months? I'm gonna be so pissed if Joker won it.”

“Nah, he had two years ago. You're good.”

It was their words that rocketed Alistair to his feet, knee going straight into a sensitive part of Garrus' anatomy he was quite fond of. The commander tried to speak, but with a blood red face and an ineffective tongue, all he could get out were squeaks.

“I... I...”

“Sorry to interrupt the fun, Commander.” They weren't sorry at all based on their tone, but they left anyway. Their laughter still carried, which did nothing for the human's coloring. Instead, he just squeaked again and ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

Garrus, still on the floor, managed to sit up with great effort. His hands still felt a little warm from where they had been resting, which just so happened to still be within arm's reach. He had often heard human asses were soft, but... well, he had never believed it until then.

He had to admit, he was a bit of a convert in the making.

“You alright, Shepard?”

Alistair whirled around, aided by his hamster socks. “Fine! I mean, I'm fine. Are you ok, though? I hit you pretty hard.”

He extended the hand, and soon both of them were on equal footing. Garrus still felt a little sore, but apart from that he would live. His human companion, on the other hand, looked as though he might die on the spot. And what an embarrassing thing, to die in his hamster socks.

That would be worse than his first death, and there'd be no coming back from that one.

“I'm fine, Shepard. You're really red though.” He extended a hand, placing it on Alistair's cheek. It was warm, and just as soft as his ass actually. Humans, even the muscle bound ones, were pretty damn soft compared to Turians.

And just like that, Alistair was out of his reach and even redder. His hand went to his cheek, while his eyes glanced around wide. “Just a little hot is all! Maybe I should go back to bed. I'll see you later, Garrus!”

Now, Garrus had seen plenty of people haul ass in his time on the field. However, he had never seen quite a performance like the one the fabled Commander Shepard put as he fled towards the elevator, red as the tomatoes that showed up sometimes.

At least he got the pleasure of watching that ass work. Yep, he was definitely becoming a convert to the wonders human anatomy. If only the human attached to it could stick around longer.

That'd be the day.

 


End file.
